


From the shattered stone

by Lizardbeth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Thor: The Dark World, F/M, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Odin (Marvel)'s Parenting, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: Sif is there when Loki falls on Svartaltheim, changing his fate. And her own.





	From the shattered stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rories/gifts).



> Merry Mistletoe and Mischief season! :)

Sif was too far to help. She saw it all from where she was trying to shield Jane Foster, Malekith was gone, and Kurse was beating on Thor. Loki was entangled with a bunch of Dark Elves, working his way through them efficiently and she thought she could take care of hers and go to to Thor.

But Loki threw another blade underhanded taking his final opponent in the throat, clearing his path to Thor. He raced across the rocky ground, stomping something she didn’t see until it flung itself up into his hand and she saw one of the heavy Dark Elf blades.

Without stopping, without hesitation, he drove the sword right through the Kurse’s heavy body armor until the point emerged from the front. He didn’t stop until he’d shoved the sword to the hilt and let go, waiting for the monster to fall.

Kurse stopped his attack on Thor and turned around, but didn’t stagger as he should with that kind of wound. A terror suddenly wound itself in her chest, and she knew.

On the ground, Thor knew the same and yelled Loki’s name.

Kurse grabbed Loki by the shoulders and yanked him forward, onto the blade.

For a second, she had hope: he had missed, she was wrong about the angle, it wasn’t happening…

But then she heard Thor’s yell: “NO!!” And that was her own voice joining it, as with a snarl, Kurse pulled the blade out.

Loki’s eyes somehow, miraculously, found hers, wide and surprised. His hands went toward the wound, he staggered a step, and he toppled backward, slamming to the dirt. Kurse fell, too -- too late.

“Loki!” she yelled. She killed two Dark Elves in her way, before she flung herself down at his side. Thor was there, too.

Sif’s heart clenched so tight she couldn’t breathe. Loki was already pale as ash, and shaking.

“Hey, you didn’t listen, you fool,” Thor muttered.

“I am- I am a fool,” Loki agreed, breathlessly. His hands plucked weakly near the wound before falling away. Thor tried to slide his hand to cushion his head, when he lifted it restlessly.

“Shut up,” Sif ordered roughly. “You’re not gonna die on us.” She ripped a strip off the end of her cape and pushed his hands out of the way.

“Sif--” Thor said and it sounded like a protest. It sounded like he was giving up.

“No,” she said flatly and put the wadded fabric over the wound. Bending closer, at Loki’s face. Norns, she was losing him; she was losing him and he was dying, right in front of her.

“Don’t you do this,” she ordered him. “Don’t you let go.”

“Why not?” he asked, and damn him, he sounded almost amused. She wanted to slap him, but instead held the cloth tighter. But she could feel it already sodden beneath her fingers, and Norns knew there was a matching hole in the back.

“Lost you once, mourned you once, not again. I won’t, I can’t--” The words scattered heedlessly, trying to get it all out at once, so he could hear.

He shuddered, gasping as a wave of pain crashed on him, and Thor held his shoulders, trying to keep him still.

“Loki-- I’ll tell Father what you did here today,” Thor promised.

“I didn’t do it for him,” he whispered and the convulsive shivering stopped. His hands fell limp against the dirt.

“No, no, you don’t. Don’t you leave me,” Sif implored. Then desperate, she tilted her head back, “Heimdall. Bring us home.”

“No!” Loki protested. One hand weakly crawled across the dirt toward her, touching her knee. “Sif, no, please, not … cell.”

She bent nearer, free hand on his face. She thought his skin would be cold, but it was warm instead. That had to be a good sign, surely. “No cell, I promise,” she murmured. “I won’t let him.”

She could see his doubt, and he shook his head minutely. “Please…”

He was begging to die. She thought her heart was going to expode in her chest, it hurt so badly. “No, I won’t let you go,” she promised and blinked back the wet heat in her eyes. “I won’t.”

He wasn’t listening anymore, body turning rigid, head snapping back as his gaze sought the sky. Every breath now was ragged and shallow,

She yelled again. “HEIMDALL. OPEN THE BIFROST. NOW!” If he didn’t bring them back, right now, she was going to kill him.

Across Loki’s body, Thor looked at her, blue eyes uncertain. “But Sif--”

The air smelled of ozone and the Bifrost slammed down to snatch them all back.

 

* * *

 

In the Observatory, the golden gleam was overpowering after the dim darkness of Svartalfheim. Sif had eyes for none of it, looking wildly from Loki, who was on the floor, eyes closed, limp -- she had a moment’s terror that the rough ride had killed him but he was still breathing -- to Thor, to Jane, who knelt at his shoulder, and finally upward to find the golden armor and golden eyes of Heimdall.

“He needs the Healer Hall; he’s dying,” she said flatly, hurried. Heimdall should know this already; he must’ve seen it. Surely he was watching the whole time on Svartalfheim, to see them battle Malekith and his alfar.

For an instant Heimdall didn’t move or speak, and she could see the thought cross his face. It seemed loud in the silence, “ _Perhaps that is for the best_.”

Her free hand gathered into a fist, and she stared at him, daring him to say it. If Loki died here, steps from home, she would avenge it.

“A skiff awaits,” Heimdall said aloud, and her heart seemed to leap and start again at the news.

She heard the soft rumble of one of the air skiffs on approach, and a glance outside showed one landing on the Bifrost outside.

“Thor--” she started, but Thor was already sliding his hands beneath Loki’s body.

“I can take him,” he declared, and pulled Loki across his arms. Her hands steadying him, he stood up, Loki cradled against his chest. He moaned at the movement, but his eyes only flickered, sinking shut again.

Beneath, blood dripped from his back to the pristine floor.

Sif touched his neck, looking for his pulse. His skin was still hot.

“Thor,” Jane said urgently, “What about Malekith? He’s going to Earth. Can we -- warn them? Do something?”

Thor’s step hesitated and he looked down at Loki’s face. “Jane…” he said, sounding helpless. Then he made up his mind and hurried to the skiff. The two Einharjar waiting snapped to attention, which made Sif want to laugh since she and Thor had both knocked several of them unconscious not long ago.

He laid Loki on the bench gently, planting a swift kiss to his brow. “Take him to Eir,” Thor ordered them. “Sif, you go with him. Do - do whatever you need to, to keep him safe. Jane, with me, to Midgard. We must hurry. Heimdall, send us to Malekith’s target. And Watcher-- “ he stopped, meeting Heimdall’s gaze. “Tell Father what he did. No matter - no matter what happens, Father needs to know the truth.”

Heimdall nodded and as he started the Observatory’s power, Sif waved a hand in farewell at Thor and Jane, and jumped into the skiff. She knelt at Loki’s side, one hand still futilely trying to press her cape wad against his wound and the other against his neck, to count his heart beats. Too slow, too shallow, and he was far too hot. Something was wrong with him, something more than the blade through his abdomen.

They were halfway to the city when the Bifrost fired again, sending Thor away.

She turned to face the palace again, and kept her face blank, but Thor had reminded her of why and how they had left. SHe hadn’t expected to come back to face the consequences so soon. Not like this. She’d intended only to assist Thor in getting Jane and Loki into the skiff, so Loki could take them after Malekith by his path. But the flow of the battle had caught her up, and she’d ended up with them, when they’d needed another hand to keep themselves clear of the Einharjar.

The two in her skiff weren’t acting as if she were under arrest, but they were going back to the palace anyway so why would they need to? Plus, no one would probably want to stop her from tending Loki.

She looked at him again, biting her lip in anxiety. A thousand years of battles, of fights, of adventure, of words she now wished she could take back. Hostile slurs against magic that now echoed in her ears, reminding her of others’ insults against a female warrior. Words that he’d heard, laughed off and learned to volley back as if they didn’t matter. But they had been little bites at the ground between them and turning it to a chasm, so the friendship of their youth had all but turned to dust.

But she’d seen light this day. She’d seen him throw himself at Malekith, not to avenge the Queen, but to save Jane Foster, a mortal woman he cared nothing for, simply because she needed saving and he could. She’d seen him declare himself Loki of Jotunheim, playing the part while his hands had clenched, lips pressed together as if he would vomit at the words.. And lastly he’d saved Thor, and killed what Algrim had become, even if he died of it.

That moment Algrim had turned and stabbed Loki played in her memory, again and again, but at least it had ripped the veil from her eyes so now she knew truly how wrong she had been.

He was a sorcerer, that was always true, but also, a warrior no less than she was.

But now she feared she would lose her chance to tell him. Even if he threw the words back in her face, too little too late, she wanted him to at least be alive to hear.

 

* * *

 

The skiff set down on the eastern landing platform where Eir and two of her staff were waiting. Lifting her skirts to step over the side of the skin, Eir didn’t wait for the Einharjar to go to Loki.

She swept a hand sensor across his body, and frowned at the result. “To the healing hall,” she ordered. “Swiftly.”

As the assistants loaded him onto the gurney, Sif told Eir, “He was struck by a thick-bladed Dark Elf sword. All the way through.”

“Yes, I see that. Wounds of both entrance and exit. Damage to internal organs.” The business-like tone faltered, “Like the All-Mother…” she added softly before shaking her head once. “I shall not lose the prince, too.”

She strode off after the gurney, and Sif followed, more slowly, thinking of the damage that could be caused by being stabbed straight through his body. Perhaps that he’d survived this long was a good sign?

Glancing at the Einharjar, who still didn’t demand her arrest, she hesitated. She ought to report to the king, but her promise to Thor and to Loki had been to keep him safe. She couldn’t do that if she was in a cell herself.

Of course, she couldn’t do it at all, if the All-Father was convinced otherwise. Breaking Loki out of prison, ignoring the king’s command to not go after Malekith, damaging the hall -- Sif would do it all again, but there was no question the king would be unhappy about all of it.

Loki was in good hands, and she would not be a coward and flee from the king’s justice. Heading for the great hall, she had to clench her jaw at the sight of the damage. The All-Father was not there, she discovered belatedly, perhaps because ht clean-up crew had begun its work.

She tracked him down holding audience in the smaller receiving hall, where Loki had once held audience as king. Lingering in the back so her name could be announced for her turn, she knew Odin was expecting her when abruptly Tyr materialized at her elbow. “You may go forward.”

Chin high, she approached the throne with steady steps, her weapon carefully holstered at her back and her hands empty. At the base, she knelt, bowed her head, and saluted fist to heart, waiting for leave.

“Lady Sif,” the king said, his tone repressive. “Explain your actions.”

She lifted her head to address him, having to lick her lips at the sight of his stony expression. She could end up in prison or executed for treason if she didn’t do this well. But words had never been her strength; negotiating had always fallen to Loki on their quests, or Thor who at least could occasionally sweet-talk his father into leniency when the group mis-stepped.

“All-Father, Thor sought to save the mortal Jane Foster from death,” she said. “I decided to help him, because I too knew Jane Foster from Midgard, and she did not deserve to die for accidentally entangling herself in greater affairs. She did not choose the aether, it chose her. We needed Loki’s help to reach Malekith, the only one who knew how to remove the aether from Jane.”

'Loki’s help' involved releasing him from the cell the king had put him in, but she skipped over that hastily and continued, “Malekith betrayed our agreement and during the battle, my king, Loki saved Jane’s life twice, when Malekith sought her death. He also saved Thor’s against the Kursed Algrim, when Thor was nearly defeated. :Loki stabbed Kurse with a blade through his heart, but Kurse pulled him upon the blade, and they both fell. Loki… asked us to leave him,” she added more softly. “To allow him to die, sacrifice himself for a good end. I could not let that happen, so I returned here to bring Loki to Healer Eir and to report to you what happened. Thor and Jane have followed Malekith to Midgard, to stop him.” She bowed her head again, finished, hoping that was sufficient.

The king said nothing, though in the audience behind her she heard whispers. The story would travel, and she was glad of that. Whatever happened, people would know the truth.

Finally, he spoke. It was not the word of condemnation she expected. “Loki is hurt?” he asked. She looked up to see he was gripping Gungnir in one hand very tightly, while his good eye stared at her urgently.

“Yes, my king. The Kursed blade stabbed him through the chest. I do not know how he still lives,” she confessed. “Perhaps it was some magic, or fortune that has kept him alive to reach here.”

“Or your care,” Odin suggested. He looked to Tyr. “The remainder of the audience is canceled. I must attend to my son. Sif, remain.”

She stayed on one knee, as the petitioners and the rest of court were ushered out. Finally when they were in relative solitude, Odin stood, swaying at first when upright before leaning on Gungnir for strength and making his way down the shallow steps to her.

Gungnir’s haft found her chin and raised it; that blade was quite near her face, and her insides clenched. “I will not punish you for what Thor made happen,” he declared softly. “I know it was his doing most of all. For bringing Loki home, I grant you excuse for your treason. But make no mistake, Lady Sif, there is only so much I will forgive. Tread upon a precipice too many times, you will fall.”

She inhaled and nodded slightly. “I understand, my king. I am thankful for your generosity.”

But the haft didn’t move and his tone grew dark with dread promise. “If Loki yet dies of this reckless misadventure, I will have your head on Traitor’s Gate.”

That made her swallow hard, realizing he meant it. “Yes, All-Father.”

“Stand. We will go to the infirmary together.”

* * *

 

At the infirmary, they found Eir and her staff bustling quietly around Loki’s bed. Eir noticed the king and came to meet him.

“All-Father, Prince Loki has come well through the repair and the wounds begin to heal.”

Odin let out a breath of relief. “Good.” He moved to the bed, and Sif crept after him, unable to not look.

Loki was flat on his back, a sheet drawn to his waist and a bandage swathing his torso. His skin was still unnervingly gray in the orange-bright light of the infirmary.

Odin noticed too, and turned his head toward Eir. “His skin looks odd. Is that -- his shift?” he asked with a frown. “Is he reverting?”

“No, my king, I think not,” Eir answered softly. “It does not change. And if you touch him, you will see he is feverish. I believe it may be the Kurse poison in his system.”

“No,” Sif gasped in horror, remembering the hideous monster Algrim had become. “Is he -- will he transform into that-- creature, Eir?”

“No, Lady Sif. His exposure seems slight, and his body will rid itself of the poison with time.”

“Would it help if I return him to his native blood?” Odin asked. “I can force the shift.”

Sif was curious to see what he would look like as a Frost Giant. He didn’t seem tall enough, for one thing, so would he grow all the extra height and bulk, or just look like one of them but Aesir-sized? It made so little sense to her, despite what Frigga told her about how and why Loki had been adopted.

But Eir shook her head. “No, All-Father, I would not advise it. His body is in equilibrium with the poison, but any further strain may disturb that balance, to ill effect.”

“Very well,” he said and commanded. “Leave us.”

Sif patted Loki’s hand, finding the skin still scalding to touch, and hurried out obediently. Waiting outside, she paced anxiously. She didn’t think, after Odin’s reactions, that he intended Loki any harm, but what if she were wrong? What if he moved Loki back to his prison cell or punished him in some other way for escaping captivity or helping Thor disobey?

She only had to wait a few minutes before Odin re-emerged, and she went to meet him as his summons. “All-Father?”

He leaned on Gungnir, for a moment looking weary and very old. She remembered that his wife of many years had died not long ago, and now Loki was ill and Thor was gone to MIdgard.

He regarded her in silence, his eye seemingly weighing her for something. She kept her chin up and tried to bear the scrutiny with grace.

“I will set you a task, Lady Sif,” he said eventually. “Watch over him. Keep him safe and keep him well as he heals. At the end of his recovery, if I’m convinced his actions on Svartalfheim were not an aberration, I will release him. He has this chance during his recovery, and you may tell him that I advise he take it.”

With a final nod, he walked away, without waiting for her assent.

She blew out a breath as soon as he was around the corner and she relaxed her fists to lie flat against her thighs.

'Keep him safe’ - that much she could do and had already promised. The rest? She had no idea.

 

* * *

 

She was dozing at Loki’s bedside when he finally stirred.

Moaning softly in his throat, his eyelashes fluttered. She leaned forward so he could see her clearly as his eyes flickered open. There were creases carved into the corners of his eyes and forehead, and for an instant, as he looked at the ceiling, his lips pressed together as if disappointed to find himself there.

“Hey,” she murmured.

His lips parted for a wheezing breath, and it took a bit for a garbled word to come out.

“Hurt?” she asked, thinking that was what he was trying to say. “Are you in pain?”

He nodded his head faintly, fingers twitching toward his body but without strength to lift them.

She fumbled for the tablet and swiped open the control panel, tapping up the nervous system blockers. His eyes shut and he let out a soft breath of relief.

Sif waited and wondered if he was falling asleep again. “Loki?” she asked softly.

His eyes opened again and he smiled a bit. “Thank you. Better,” he told her. His voice was still soft, but lacked the strain of before. His gaze flicked up to the ceiling. “Asgard.”

“Yes, Asgard. I wasn’t going to leave you to die.”

“You should have,” he whispered. “Why bring me back?”

She couldn’t find her voice at first, so utterly appalled by the question. “Why? To live.”

He rolled his eyes. “I hope you’re happy for these extra days before execution. I’m not.”

She inwardly recoiled from the bitter harsh words, but held herself straight. “That’s not going to happen. I told the tale to the All-Father, Loki. He told me to keep you safe while you recover, and if you can prove to him that Midgard was temporary madness and your actions of Svartalfheim were your true heart, he will grant you a second chance.”

He listened to her words, at first with a frown and blinking eyes as if she was speaking in a tongue he didn’t understand. Then his eyes widened as understanding crashed in, and he laughed.

It was an awful sound, choking and gasping off into nothing as his face went ashen, but even when he settled again, his lips stayed curled into a smirk. “You are a poor liar, Sif.”

“He did say it,” She insisted. “And you better not call me a liar again. Helpless patient buys you only so many insults.”

“Then you passed on a liar’s lies. And even if it were true, I want none of his mercy. Or second chances. He is nothing to me, and neither are you,” he snarled and turned his head away from her, closing his eyes. “Leave me be.”

She stood up. “Then I will report to the king that you haven’t changed.”

“Good. Do that.”

But she wasn’t done. “You’re still the same, ill-tempered boy you used to be, when the queen despaired of teaching you manners.”

His head snapped back around. “Do not speak of her."

Hands on her hips, she looked down at him thinking he looked like a wet kitten somehow- very angry but pathetic and cute all at the same time. “Or what? You’ll turn your face and glare at the wall?”

He stilled, and chewed at his lip absently then wincing, he inhaled a deep breath and blurted furiously, “You kept me from seeing her again! That was all I wanted out of that incredibly stupid escapade and you took it away. Get out and don’t come back,” he ordered through gritted teeth. His hand had found a way to his chest, holding it over the wound as if to hold his heart inside.

She didn’t leave, softening her expression as the echo of his furious command died away. “Loki, she’ll wait,” Sif reassured him gently. “She wouldn’t want you to follow her so quickly. You know that. She’d want you to take the king’s offer of a second chance. To be the brilliant, quick, happy son she once knew.”

“He’s dead,” Loki said. It was worse that he didn’t say it with venom, only as a flat statement. “I’m not sure he was ever real, but he’s gone. You should have let go.”

This time when he turned his head and closed his eyes, he looked exhausted, too pale and still in pain, and fragile as if a wind would blow him away and he wouldn’t fight it.

She resumed her seat and after a hesitation, laid her hand over his, where it rested against the sheet. He jerked in her grasp, but not enough to get free, His skin was still far too hot but she didn’t let go.

It was… different. They hadn’t held hands since they’d hit adulthood, so the long fingers beneath hers hers were different than she remembered, but it was nice.

“He’s not dead,” she murmured. “You’re right here. I know you feel different knowing what you know, but … you’re still the same Loki who changed my hair. You remember that, trickster?” she jested lightly hoping he might smile. He didn’t but he didn’t pull his hand away either. “Or when we sneaked into see Sleipnir?”

“And Sleipnir ratted us out, ungrateful beast, and we had to hide in the herb garden,” Loki murmured. His mouth quirked up on one side. But she was glad to see him remembering with nostalgia, as she had hoped. She would drag him back to that if she had to.

She went on, keeping her voice that same gentle remembrance. “Or that time Thor was going on and on about the Valkyrie, and you found their armor so I could I pretend to be one.”

His smile widened. “You looked amazing,” he murmured, soft enough it could’ve been to himself or slipped out.

She smiled and was about to tease him, when she noticed his eyes had closed. His hand relaxed in hers as he fell back asleep. “Happy dreams,” she whispered.

Watching him sleep, she sighed softly, wondering what she could do. Why it even mattered so much to her than she pull him back from the ledge. Of course she’d promised Thor to look after Loki, but she’d started to before making that promise.

Out of loyalty to the king and the queen’s memory? She thought her own words true, that Queen Frigga would never want Loki to follow her in death so soon, or to feel that was the only place left for him. She would want him to find peace and continue to reunite with the rest of this family and his friends.

Had he really thought she looked amazing in the Valkyrie’s ancient armor? He was a silvertongued liar when he wanted something, but it had sounded unguarded. Dare she believe it was genuinely what he had thought?

She was still thinking about what he’d said, when Eir came in a bit later. After looking at the display and altering some controls, she said, “You should find some ease, Lady Sif. I have put him more deeply asleep to rest and heal.”

“Is he doing better?”

“The poison helps the wound heal, but will burn for some time yet. A few days, it will burn itself out and then his strength will recover swiftly,” Eir reported, and glanced at Sif. “Go now. He will not wake again until morning, at best.”

Sif thanked her, stood up and didn’t know what to do or say to the unconscious patient, so she awkwardly smiled at him and promised she would be back, before heading out the door.

In her chambers she stripped off her armor, only now noticing the bloodstains and the ash and cinders smearing it. She let the pile fall to the corner to have it cleaned later, bathed herself, and changed to a more comfortable gown. Then, while still among her clothes, she located the box on the high shelf and took it down.

She still had it. Valkyrie armor in the style of those fallen warriors before she was born. Loki’d had it made for her as a prank on Thor he’d claimed, but thinking of his soft words, she wasn’t so sure that had been its only purpose.

She touched the fabric, and it felt still soft and strong even after all these years. Had she treated his gift well? She couldn’t remember what she’d said anymore, but she had the sinking feeling she’d treated it as she’d treated most of his gifts: like a jest.

She’d been hurt by his growing coldness toward her, a distance she had thought was all on him, a resentment of her closeness with Thor and the Warriors Three. But it was not all him, she could see that now, reading the pattern of her own behavior as he must have.

Pulling the entire armor out, she shook it out, wrinkling her nose at the stale smell and decided to hang it out. Perhaps when Loki was feeling better, she would see what he thought of it now.

* * *

 

Despite the rest, Loki looked no better in the morning. Drawn and grey, in sleep his face looked pinched with pain and he moved his head restlessly.

Sif dosed him again, and he settled into sounder sleep. She gingerly took his hand again and murmured, “Hey, sleepy. You have to get better soon okay? Thor’s still gone, but I heard he and Jane killed Malekith. He should be back with the aether pretty soon. Also, the throne room is still a wreck because he can’t drive. The Allfather--” she paused and glanced at the archway, lowering her voice, “he looks old, Loki. The queen’s death… I know you mourn too, but if you mourn together, maybe….” she trailed off, wondering if it was all foolish dreaming.

Would Loki rise from this bed, once well, and provoke a fight with the All-Father? Leave? Die? Was there a path none of those things happened and they could reconcile and find peace?

He didn’t wake, and when a messenger came to tell her Thor was on his way back, she left to meet her friend.

In the receiving hall, Odin was in the throne and most of court was gathered, when the doors opened and Thor entered.

He carried Mjolnir on his belt, and a strange metallic contraption in both hands. It looked something like a glass jar surrounded by metal. He didn’t hesitate to approach before Odin gestured him forward, stopping near. “Father. This contains the aether. It was the best we could do for containment on short notice, on Midgard. The mortals were not pleased that I took it, but I knew you would wish it out of their hands.”

Odin’s jaw tightened, but he waved his free hand. “Tyr, transfer it to a proper vessel and place it in the Treasury for now.”

“Be careful with it,” Thor urged Tyr, as he took the device. Then faced his father. “I recovered the Aether, killed Malekith, and prevented him from not only destroying the galaxy but also not damaging Midgard much. Jane Foster is well.”

Odin’s hand tightened on Gungnir. “And it does not bother you that your brother took a near fatal wound because of your reckless disregard for my orders?”

Thor flinched and swallowed hard. “Of course it does. How is he?”

“He remains in a twilight sleep,” Odin said. “But he did awaken for Lady Sif, and Healer Eir expects him to recover with time.”

Thor let out a relieved breath. “May I see him?”

Odin glowered at him with one frosty eye. “I am tempted to refuse you, as punishment for your recklessness. But that would be unjust to Loki, who took that wound to save your life. We will discuss your behavior in private later. You are dismissed.”

Thor shifted as if he was thinking of objecting but instead, found some discretion. He bowed his head to the king and left. Sif caught his eye on the way out and followed.

“My friend,” he greeted and gave her a smile. “Father has grown soft, don’t you think? Would he not have raged at me just last year for what we did?”

“I’m not sure I’d say ‘soft’ but perhaps, tired,” she agreed, and the smile faded.

“Is he not well?”

“I think he mourns the queen, and little else is of consequence to him, Thor. He told me to keep Loki safe, and if he seems to have recovered from his madness from earlier, he will grant Loki a second chance. So how can he say that, and punish you for what turned out a success?”

“It very nearly did not,” Thor admitted to her. “Without Jane’s knowledge, we might not be here to celebrate Malekith’s end.”

“Then it’s good we chose to save her. Remind the king of that, if he tries to bellow at you.”

Thor nudged her shoulder with his own as they walked. “It’s good to be home among friends.”

She brought him into Loki’s room, where Thor emitted a soft cry of distress at the sight of his brother in the healer’s cot, all grey-skinned and gaunt. “Oh, no, you didn’t warn me, Sif.” One hand brushed Loki’s forehead, recoiling. “Is he feverish? It feels intolerable.”

“It is the Kursed poison,” she explained. “It has to burn itself out, Eir said. There’s no other cure. Luckily he had a low enough dose and his body is strong enough to withstand it, or it would force a transformation and death.”

Thor returned his hand to Loki’s brow, caressing back his hair. She had the pained thought that he was doing it as Frigga might have, if she had still been living. He glanced at her and forced a smile. “Thank you for your care, Sif.”

It sounded like a dismissal, and something inside her rejected that immediately. She didn’t want to leave. “The king assigned me to his protection,” she declared. “To watch over him, report on how he fares.”

Thor considered his words carefully. “‘I’m sure I can talk to him, and make adjustments. I have returned, and I can keep watch. You need not be bothered.”

“It is not a bother,” she returned and slipped into the chair. “In fact, I can stay here while you change out of your armor.”

Thor was frowning a bit, as if she’d said something odd, as he said slowly, “Very well. If you like.” He kissed Loki’s forehead. “Wake soon, brother, and I will tell you all of Malekith’s defeat. You will sorrow you missed it.”

Casting her one lingering look, he waved once and departed.

Sif took Loki’s hand again. “There,” she murmured. “Thor’s back, and I’m sure you’ll be glad of that for about five seconds, before you’re ready to stab him. But not until you’re well.” She watched his still face and thin chest wrapped in white bandages rising with shallow, slow breaths. “Soon, I hope, Loki.”

Her fingers lightly stroked his, more for her own sake than his.

* * *

When Loki stirred, the sun was slanted low. Sif watched his eyes open and when he seemed awake, she murmured, “Good afternoon, sleepyhead.”

His eyes turned toward her and she smiled as he couldn’t hide his surprise to see her. “Sif?” he asked hoarsely and had to clear his throat.

She held up a straw. “Water?”

He nodded faintly and mouthed ‘please’. She dripped water between his lips and he seemed more at ease afterward. His hand crept up toward his chest, and she smacked it. “No touching. Leave it be.”

“It … aches,” he complained. “Hard to breathe.”

“You got stabbed through the chest. When you forgot how to evade,” she chided lightly.

“Did not.”

“Oh right, you wanted to die,” she corrected herself with some scorn. “You let that creature take you out. Great plan.”

“Sif…” he complained, weak and whiny.

“No! Stop! What were you thinking?” she demanded, absolutely suddenly furious. “Did you think suicides go to Valhalla? Because they don’t, Loki. You wouldn’t have seen the queen, you wouldn’t have seen anything. You’d be dead and alone and Frigga would wait for you _forever_ , because you wouldn’t ever come. You abandoned your father, and your brother, and me, for something you weren’t going to have.”

His eyes widened and he grew paler under her harangue, and when he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off. “Enough. I know this is about the secret they kept from you and I understand that was difficult. But listen, it doesn’t change who you are.”

His expression tightened, shifting into something colder. “No?” he spat. “Comforting lies from the Lady of War ill-suit you. You swore to hunt down the beasts, did you not?”

Then, before her eyes, his skin - already so pale - turned light blue. Patterns arose on his forehead and his eyes turned blood red. Those eyes glared at her like burning coals in challenge for a few rapid beats of her heart.

She looked back, refusing to flinch, refusing to give him the horror or disgust he was looking for. “I see Loki,” she said in a steady voice. “I have seen you in the form of a snake, a dog, and a dragon, did you think me so shallow to find a different skin color horrifying?”

His astonishment - the way he couldn’t find his voice at all was answer enough. He had, and he did. He managed to dredge up an objection. “Those were not Jotunn. Asgard’s enemies.”

“They haven’t been Asgard’s enemies since before we were born,” she returned. “And until you dragged them to Asgard.”

“It’s vile,” he hissed.

In the face of his loathing, she could only protest. “No, it’s not.”

“Liar.”

Frustrated by his stubbornness, she bit her lip and glowered at him, before deciding words were useless with him. He would never believe them. She would have to show him.

She swooped in fast, like a parry downlow and he had no opportunity to avoid it.

Her mouth found his, kissing those blue lips as if she had been doing it every day for the past year.

They were cool, especially compared to how heated his skin had been. But she felt no icy power grip her; they felt like normal lips against hers. Like his, as she remembered from long ago.

She pulled back slowly, to see him staring at her, utterly astonished into speechlessness.

“See?” She let her fingers touch his cheek, sliding across the familiar angles and the new ridges of his forehead. He held absolutely frozen like a terrified rabbit beneath her hand. “You’re Loki to me. And this shape? Not vile, at all. You should see it as I do, not as you fear. You still look like you.”

He shook his head, a little, but the back and forth didn't stop, his lips trembled, and his throat worked with upset. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t believe it. I don’t-- I don’t believe you. Everything’s wrong, everything-- it’s broken. Lost.”

His brow knitted, as those strange red eyes blinked rapidly before abruptly his features melted back into the familiar, as if they had never been different. But his eyes were still liquid with unshed tears, as he stared at her.

“No,” she urged him, leaning close above him, with her own eyes feeling hot with her desperation. “No, not lost. Not broken. The All-Father said, it’s not too late, Loki. Everything… everything can be made right again. Just reach out. Please, reach out and take it,” she implored. “Come home.”

At first, he did nothing but stare at her with those distraught eyes, but she felt a hesitant touch to her arm, where she was holding herself above him. That hand slipped up her bare arm to find her shoulder and curved to hold the back of her neck.

“Do you mean it?” he whispered. “I can’t-- I can’t bear more lies. I have to know.”

“It’s true,” she promised. “Every word. I promise.”

His hand pulled her nearer, and she let him guide their lips back together. This time he kissed back, mouth seeking something in hers, something desperate and longing. She gave it back, glad to give him the truth, that she accepted all of him, and perhaps that would finally help him heal the far more serious wound to his heart his parents had given him.

When he broke away, gasping, he didn’t relinquish his grip, holding her head against his, cheek to cheek, while he shook like a storm-ravaged birch.

She freed her other hand to cross his body and press his head against her own, caressing his hair. “I promise,” she murmured again. “It’s okay, Loki.”

As his shaking subsided, she didn’t stop, waiting for him to complain or pull away. But instead, he relaxed and drew easier, slower breaths until she thought he was sleeping.

Moving slowly, she disengaged and moved back. He was asleep again, but looked less pale and more normally asleep.. Touching his cheek she confirmed what she should have noticed before: the fever had passed. Perhaps shifting had been more help than harm, after all.

Turning she saw Odin in the doorway, watching them. There was no knowing how long he’d been there. But he gave her an approving nod and moved away from the door, out of sight.

Sif seated herself back on the chair at Loki’s side and took his hand. “You better wake up soon,” she murmured. “You’re a good kisser lying flat on your back with a hole through you. I think it’d be a good idea to try it again when you’re well, and make sure you know I meant every word.” Her thumb caressed the back of his hand, gentle compared to her light tone.

“It’ll take time, I know, Loki. But you’re back and I don’t want you to leave again.”

A hoarse whisper interrupted. “Not going anywhere.”

Her gaze snapped to his face, to see his eyes open. “You’re awake!”

“It was difficult to sleep with someone giving a soliloquy next to my bed,” he murmured dryly, and she glowered at him, in lieu of smacking his arm, since she was still holding his hand.

“What is this?” he asked after a moment, frowning at her in confusion. “You? Us? Am I dreaming?”

She had to smile at that. “No. No dreams.”

“You threatened to kill me this morning.”

“It wasn’t this morning, but yes, I did. I’ll probably do it again if you do something else stupid. But,” she hesitated, when she saw the confusion lingering on his face. In a moment it would turn into a conviction she was playing with him. So she had to explain. “When I saw you lying there, dying, I just knew I couldn’t let it happen. Couldn’t lose you, not when I’d just seen a spark of the old Loki inside you. I wanted to bring that Loki home.”

His hand gripped hers more tightly. “I don’t know if I can be him again, Sif. Too much is changed--”

She shook her head to cut him off. “Not be him again. I know, we were children, life has moved on. But grow into something new. Someone better than before. I saw the seed on Svartalfheim, and I know you can make it grow, Loki, strong and sure and find a new place.”

He lifted her hand in his to his lips. “If you’re here, if this isn’t a dream, then … I’ll try.”

Her smile widened. “And then, if you’re very good, I’ll wear that Valkyrie armor again."

His eyes flared in excitement at the thought, and she had to laugh. 

It would be a slow road to recovery, but she was growing more sure by the minute that it would be worth waiting for.

 

end.


End file.
